


(Double) B By Your Side

by Aohn



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Double B, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pooh Bear - Freeform, Sickfic, Unrequited Crush, shy boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 06:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16035203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aohn/pseuds/Aohn
Summary: Bobby has a panic attack and he calls Hanbin for help.





	(Double) B By Your Side

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic Hanbin has a car (and a license).

Bobby’s skin crawls with how _wrong_ he feels. At first there is only a strange sinking feeling in his chest, like when he’s heard bad news or realized he’s fucked something up. The thing is, the feeling doesn’t fade after thinking things through, even though there is no bad news and nothing he can remember screwing up. He’s just looking for his damn shoes so he can head to the studio. So there is really no reason for this terrible feeling to keep growing to the point of physical pain, yet it _does_. It throws him off so badly that he gives up on looking for his sneakers and takes a seat on the edge of his bed.

His breathing has gone quick from worrying about the weird ache beneath his sternum and for a second he wonders if he’s having a heart attack. Is this how he dies? With no apparent cause or precursor besides misplacing his favorite pair of sneakers? And where have those fucking shoes gone? Why aren’t they where he left them and did someone go snooping through his room or something?

The thought annoys him a bit, but it’s not uncommon for the boys to borrow shit from each other without permission. That’s one of the things he’s mostly gotten used to from living with six other guys, but there’s still a lingering sense of his privacy being breached that irks him despite having nothing to hide. At least nothing anyone could stumble upon in his room.

The pain in his chest is joined by a stomachache by the time he’s managed to steady his breathing, so now all hope of joining Hanbin in the studio is out the window. He can’t leave like this. He feels too shitty to leave home, and he wants to find out where his fucking shoes went, too.

He lies back on his bed, legs still dangling over the side, and clenches fistfuls of his blanket as he waits for the cramping in his stomach to subside. The position becomes uncomfortable after only a few seconds so he draws his legs up and crawls properly onto the bed. When he’s safely curled up, head resting on his pillow and Pooh clutched in his arms, he feels a bit better mentally, but physically his heart still feels like it’s about to pound it’s way right through his chest.

Bobby clenches his eyes shut and wonders why this is happening today of all days, when there’s a major deadline coming up next week and every minute in the studio is crucial. They still need another song to put on the next album so they need to go through their demos and see what fits best, along with tweaking a few songs that have already been given the go-ahead. He _needs_ to get to the company, to the studio where Hanbin will be expecting him soon...

But right now he can’t even sit up straight. His stomach feels worse now, inexplicably, and he tries to remember everything he ate yesterday in hopes of pinpointing what caused this pain. Nothing stands out considering he shared all of yesterday’s meals with his bandmates. Unless any of them were feeling sick too?

But bad food doesn’t explain the weird ass pain in his chest either. He should at least text the members to find out if anyone else is having stomach problems.

He reaches toward his nightstand to where his phone should be plugged in, but he comes up empty. His phone isn’t there but it also isn’t in any of his pockets when he checks. He’s starting to feel desperate now, the tightness in his chest still has its hold, his stomach is still turning, and his breath is coming quicker yet again. He needs his phone to text the guys and maybe to call one in for help because he’s beginning to think this could be serious.

He’s never felt anything like this before and it’s scaring him to feel so helpless about his body. He tells himself again that he needs to locate his phone but his body betrays him further, his limbs heavy and sluggish as he tries to roll out of bed.

Bobby moans pitifully, pushing through the discomfort to kneel by the laundry pile on his floor. He plucks his phone from yesterday’s sweatpants only to find its battery is dead.

“Of fuckin’ course,” he grumbles and makes his way back to bed, panting from the effort and from the prickly feeling he has all over. Everything fees wrong.

He plugs the phone in and waits for the screen to light up, clutching at Pooh, silently begging him to ease these gross feelings away like he did earlier, but this time the old stuffed bear has no effect. He tries to calm his breathing because that’s the only thing he _can_ control at this point. Except that he’s trying and trying but he _can’t_ breathe any slower or any deeper and the realization makes him even more frantic.

The screen on his phone lights up and he’s distracted from his thoughts which are spiraling downward. He taps out his passcode and goes straight to make his call.

There are three agonizingly long rings and Bobby is sure it’s going to transfer him to voicemail when it starts to ring a fourth time, but then he hears Hanbin’s voice on the line.

“Ah, Hyung. You still coming over?”

“Bin? Hanbin!” Bobby speaks over him desperately. “I’m— Uh, I think I’m having a panic attack?”

“What?” Hanbin blurts.

Bobby pants, “I think it’s... I feel like ‘m gonna die Bin. I don’t... I can’t—”

“ _Breathe_ , Hyung. Slow down and breathe.”

“I tried but... But I can’t do it—”

“You can. Take a deep breath. In.”

Bobby sucks in, tries harder to fight through the moment when his lungs resist, and manages something closer to an average breath.

“There. Now out, slowly.”

Bobby tries but the air all comes out of him in a quick puff and he hiccups trying to breathe back in again.

“Jiwon. Listen to me, _slower_. In and out as deep as you can,” Hanbin’s voice leaves no room for argument even though there’s noises in the background that remind Bobby that Hanbin was working until he called.

“M’sorry. Sorry, Bin,” Bobby gasps, then sucks in as much breath as he can.

“Just breathe okay? Like that. That’s better. Slower, Hyung. There you go...”

Despite the muffled noises accompanying Hanbin’s voice, he speaks steadily and calm, and Bobby is finally starting to catch his breath. In slowly through his mouth then out slowly through his nose, just like Hanbin says.

“That’s it. Keep doing that. Perfect...”

Bobby focuses on breathing while Hanbin praises him in an increasingly gentle tone. It takes him a while but when he’s finally able to take more than shallow, panting breaths, he groans, “It still hurts though, Bin.”

“What hurts?” Hanbin asks swiftly.

“My chest. My stomach. I jus’ feel like shit and it hurts.”

“Try to relax, Bobby. I’ll be home in fifteen minutes and if you’re still not feeling better we can get you to urgent care but if this is a panic attack you’ve gotta just try and relax okay? Keep breathing.”

“I’m trying,” he whines.

“I know,” Hanbin soothes him but then seems to be intercepted by someone. “Shit. Hold on Hyung. No, It’s Bobby. I need to go home... No, it’s fine I think. I just need to go. Hey, Bob, you still there?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay good. How’s your breathing?”

“A lot better, but the rest not so much,” Bobby grimaces.

“Okay. Let’s just talk, alright? Did you hear what happened to Chanwoo the other day?”

“No. What?”

“He was playing one of his online games and someone told him he sounded a lot like Chan from iKon. He got all excited that someone recognized him just by his voice so he told them it was true, he really was Chan, but then they didn’t believe him,” Hanbin explains with glee, and while he does Bobby listens to the background noises too. The sound of a car alarm being disarmed, then the car door. Open. Close. Key. Ignition. Hanbin’s car Bluetooth kicks in and he listens to the way Hanbin’s voice becomes doubled slightly from being on speaker.

Bobby hums, wondering if these familiar noises would sound good as a song intro, even as he imagines their maknae trying to make his case over headset while also trying to win the round of his game. “I bet that pissed him off.”

“He whined about it nonstop for a whole hour, poor kid. And he said he lost the round, in the end.”

They laugh together, and Bobby feels the tightness in his chest loosen its grip some.

“Thanks for distracting me. I think it’s working. Hurts less. And I think you gave me an idea for a song.”

“That’s great, Bob. I’m almost home, okay?”

“I’m sorry I interrupted you at work. I was supposed to come help.”

“ _Hyung_ ,” Hanbin says seriously, “Your health is more important to me than anything else.”

Bobby inhales.

Hanbin pauses and clears his throat, “I’m still your leader, you know. I gotta look out for the team’s health.”

Bobby smiles into Pooh’s worn out fur. “Yeah.”

“Anyways, I’ll be there in a few.”

“‘Kay,” Bobby yawns. The stress on his body has taken a toll and he feels sleep prickling behind his eyes.

“You must be tired now.”

Bobby hums in agreement.

“That’s good. Relax, Bobby. Sleep if you can.”

“Don’t wanna hang up,” Bobby rasps quietly, a bit embarrassed about the admission.

“I’ll stay on the line. Are you in bed?”

“Yeah. Fuckin’ exhausted, man. My body hates me.”

“Anxiety can be a bitch. Is this the first time you’ve had an attack like this?”

Bobby hums again. “I thought I was having a heart attack for a minute, and my stomach— Oh. I had a stomachache but it’s gone now. It was weird.”

“It can affect people in different ways. When I had panic attacks as a kid, I always felt extremely nauseous and I’d sweat like you wouldn’t believe.”

Bobby hums again, but it’s faint and raspy, a telltale sign that he’s fading fast into slumber.

“You did a good job, Hyung. It must have been hard to fight it off, but you did so well.”

There’s no audible response, but Bobby smiles before he drifts off...

 

When he comes to, it’s to the rustling of his covers being pulled over his body. He cracks his eyes open and sees Hanbin, they younger’s eyes wide with worry.

“Still hurting?”

“No,” Bobby whispers and grabs Hanbin’s sleeve. “But stay anyway.”

Hanbin offers a small, relieved smile before sliding onto the bed, above the covers but pressed close to Bobby who rests his head on his shoulder. The older man quickly falls back to sleep, body craving rest after the physically challenging episode he had.

Hanbin looks down at Bobby’s long black hair, then at Pooh who is pressed between them, tucked in the crook of his hyung’s elbow, and he gives silent thanks to the stuffed animal for looking after Bobby when he couldn’t. Soon he’s asleep himself, lulled easily by the sound of Bobby’s slow, rhythmic inhale and exhale.

**Author's Note:**

> Bobby’s favorite shoes are right by the front door where he left them.


End file.
